


The Parts We Play

by orphan_account



Category: The OC
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Firstly, if you read that as an actual ship, get out. Don't be gross.)<br/>Technically canon, or at least no one'll tell me any differently: just something small about Marissa visiting Kirsten at Suriak between seasons two and three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Parts We Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [philindas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/gifts).



Life with Kirsten next door had always been better than life with her away. It was a simple truth, and one so taken for granted that Marissa had never really imagined what Newport would be like without her. What was the point? She was her dad’s best friend, her mother’s one ally, she was Seth’s mom. She was Marissa’s sister... at least, she had been, until Caleb had died. Did that matter? How did that work, anyway? The problem was, she didn’t have anyone to ask. Well, no: the problem was that Kirsten was in rehab for an alcohol problem Marissa had never even noticed. Another problem, and one that she was doing her best to put out of her mind, was that she had spent the entire day getting far more well-acquainted with the Orange County Police Department than she’d ever intended on being. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, if it had been for another reason. She had always kind of imagined a day like that to involve her mother being the one in trouble, or being questioned. To say that shooting Trey had never been part of Marissa’s plan-- whatever her plan was, these days-- would be the understatement of the century. But she would think about that tomorrow. Today, she had to go see Kirsten.

It hadn’t been difficult to get the information she needed from Sandy when they’d met that morning: she had known it wouldn’t be, as there was no one he would ever rather talk about. Also, she’d brought bagels. There weren’t many things Marissa had picked up from her mother, or so she liked to think, but the art of persuasion? Not lost on her. In the end, she had convinced him to call and have her added to Kirsten’s list of approved visitors, and she had headed for Suriak as soon as the two of them, her parents, and Ryan had been released from the station. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going, but given the way things had been around the Cooper household, Marissa had doubted she would be missed. The drive-- about half an hour-- had been shorter than she’d expected, but it was possible that she hadn’t been on her best behavior on the road. She was feeling more frayed and more impatient than she could ever remember being, these days, and though it had nothing to do with the situation at hand, it wasn’t helping.

* * *

 

Marissa’s entire life had been balanced haphazardly upon a few constants, and-- since she was six, at least, and the Cohens had returned from Berkeley-- perhaps the most vital of all had been Kirsten. She loved her, not just as her mentor, but as an extension of herself. There were no other two people so alike, her dad had always joked, and there was no accomplishment Marissa prided herself on more. So once she had gathered her courage and her bag and entered the building-- immediately regretting her decision not to bring a jacket-- it was no surprise when the secretary assumed she was family. In fact, she had counted on it, and-- though she was a terrible liar-- Marissa denied nothing.

“Hey... Susan,” she said, once she’d spied the woman’s nameplate. She smiled brightly. “Sandy called for me, I don’t know if he talked to you?” Susan indicated that he had, so Marissa pressed on, accepting her visitor’s pass. “This is my first time out here, so I don’t know where to go,” she reminded the woman, who had already turned to a small mountain of paperwork. Marissa apologized, and then, after she had directions to Kirsten’s room, thanked Susan and apologized yet again.

* * *

 

Suriak’s corridors were warmly lit, but too long and far too decorated. Though she supposed it was all deliberate-- set up to prevent homesickness in patients-- Marissa felt uncomfortable, filled with a strange sense of foreboding. It was a bit too “Hotel California” for her tastes, which she made a mental note not to mention to Kirsten. Optimism, despite her best efforts-- which were titanic-- had never come naturally to her. On Marissa’s fourth birthday, she had woken up to pancakes and both of her parents in her room, eager to sing to her and greet the new year. All she had had to say was that “everyone turns four”, and that Seth had done so just the day before. The Cooper family never learned to tone down their enthusiasm, though. Despite her utter lack of grace-- or perhaps because of it-- the next year they’d gotten her a pony, from which she had promptly fallen and broken her arm.

It was her seventh birthday Marissa was lost in thought about as she reached Kirsten’s door, and as she exhausted the memory it occurred to her that she had no game plan. It had just been urgent. She had needed to get out of Newport, just for a while, and along with about a thousand other things, she was worried. She sighed, stilled herself. And then she knocked.

After the third time, the door opened, and Marissa was shocked by what she saw. It wasn’t that she was expecting someone else; rather that she had expected Kirsten to be different somehow. This was just the same woman she’d grown up having next door, who had always had the time and the room for one more. The same woman who had treated her like the daughter she had never had, who, maybe-- in a life that never quite was-- Marissa would have belonged to. The way she said her name felt like home in a way Caleb’s mansion never had. It was in that moment that the realization hit her: Kirsten hadn’t been well for a long time. Maybe not even since she could remember. She was at once overcome with guilt, but instead of addressing that, what she said was “hey”.

* * *

 

A hospital shouldn’t feel like a home, she thought again, but as Kirsten offered her a chair and she took it, Marissa felt more at peace than she had in a while. Since everything with Trey, at least. There was something about the quiet, and sharing it with someone who appreciated the quiet, that calmed her. The silence they lapsed into was comfortable, but brief, and she was the one who broke it.

“How are you?” was her stroke of brilliance.  
Her smile was an apology; Kirsten’s was understanding. Gracious, even, but the two of them were always gracious. It was in their blood, in the way they’d been groomed since birth: it wasn’t necessarily anything personal. Not even when you’d like it to be. 

“How’d you get in?” was Kirsten’s reply, but she didn’t seem bothered. If anything, the glint in her eye was respect. Affection, maybe, but Marissa didn’t have much experience interpreting that.  
“Sandy,” she admitted, failing to mention the circumstance.  
Kirsten’s laugh was silent, but what it said was “of course”. It was infectious, and Marissa grinned at the encouragement.  
“We had breakfast, and I managed to talk him into getting me onto your list.” Another smile tugged at one edge of her mouth: another apology. “I think they bought me as family. I could have done better, but I didn’t want to borrow a suit from Mom.” An easy silence fell between them, filled with thousands of words the two of them had never had to say, but it was different now: with Caleb gone, it felt wrong to complain about her mother, so she added a “she’s fine”. Julie always was. It seemed appropriate to wait for Kirsten to steer the conversation from there, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. She wondered vaguely how much she acted like her dad.  
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” Marissa continued, her words leaving her in a rush. “I can leave if you want, I totally won’t mind, it’s just that things have... been weird. Without you, I mean.” Kirsten’s absence had, of course, been only a small part of it, but she hadn’t come to burden her with her problems.

  
“Stay,” Kirsten said, the familiar finality in her voice meaning she meant it. “I’ve missed you,” she told her, and though she was clearly being truthful, it was-- just as clearly-- for Marissa’s benefit. And she appreciated it, just as Kirsten had known she would.  
And she was overwhelmed by the gesture, as anyone could have guessed, and words escaped her, as they often did. So what she said, in the end, was irrelevant: “Seth’s a goddamn nightmare, no offense.”  
They both laughed.


End file.
